it. She poured every emotion and feeling that existed inside her body into mine, and I took it greedily, wanting more. So, it took every ounce of willpower I could conjure up for me to pull back from her, breaking our fused mouths. I would rather kiss Sunny until it killed me.
What a way to go.
“Wow.” Sunny’s soft voice forced my eyes to open, and I was thankful that hers were still half-closed as she was lost in the moment.
“Yeah. So, um, what, uh …” I stumbled on my words and scooted slightly away from her magnetic pull and the way her tiny frame fit in my hands so perfectly. “What were we talking about before you kissed me senseless?”
Her beautiful blue eyes opened fully as she looked at me. Her silver hair shone, and if I’d thought she was beautiful before this moment, she was even more so now.
“Me? Pretty sure you started it,” she said before quickly adding, “I think you were apologizing for not doing that the second you saw me weeks ago, but I could be wrong.”
That made me laugh. “You’re not wrong. I was an idiot. I should have kissed you the minute I saw you outside my bedroom door. I’m sorry I didn’t.”
Her eyes closed, and she swayed slightly. “You can say that again.”
“I will.” I reached out and touched her cheek. “I told you I’d say I’m sorry a hundred times if you wanted me to.”
She cleared her throat. “No. You said three hundred sixty-five times, to be exact. But who’s counting?”
God, she was fucking adorable. And I was a mess. A mess who wanted her in every way and knew that once I had her, I’d never be able to let her go.
“You’re right. I did promise every day for a year.” I gave her a wink.
“I might not get tired of hearing it,” she teased.
“I guess we’ll see,” I played back.
“Words are one thing, Davies; actions are something else entirely,” she said, pulling out the last-name card.
“Oh, last-name use. You must really mean business.”
“I’m just saying that it takes zero effort to saaaay all the right things. The real effort is in the action. The doing. The following through.” She tried to sound all nonchalant about it, but I knew there was conviction behind her statement.
“I know. You want me to mean the things I say to you. And I do. I’ll show you,” I said, and she smiled so big that her whole face lit up. I got lost, just looking at her. “But you know what? I think we were actually talking about your major,” I reminded us both as I tried to sound like I wasn’t picturing her with no clothes on, waiting naked for me on my bed. What a fucking sight.
I kept staring at her lips, all swollen and begging me for more even though they were currently frowning. She did not want to talk about this subject.
“You’re majoring in communications, but you don’t want to be a communicator?” I asked like a smart-ass, and she leaned over to swat my shoulder.
“Why did you bring that back up? Now, I’m depressed again.” She pouted.
“I’m trying to help.”
“How?”
“Well, I’m helping you pick out your future profession,” I said with confidence, like this should be easy and could be decided on a whim in my bedroom. “I do remember you baking some fantastic-tasting cookies once or twice before. Think you might want to do that someday?”
Her mouth twisted into a small snarl that didn’t suit her face, and I wondered how that question had garnered that reaction from her. “I don’t think so. Danika used to say that all the time, too, but I bake for fun. I think if it was my job and I was forced to do it, it wouldn’t be fun anymore.”
I nodded along with her assessment because it was logical and made perfect sense. I had thought along the same lines before in regards to baseball, but I knew it wasn’t really the same thing. Playing ball was already work, and I considered it my job. I’d been on a sixteen-year interview that was finally coming to an end.
“I get that.”
“Really?” Her expression shifted, her snarl gone. “Danika always told me I was crazy and that if I loved something, I should do more of it. She never understood how I couldn’t want to bake for people.”
“I mean, she’s not wrong about loving what you do. But baking is a hobby for you.